Mutual | dreamwastakenxreader

♗ ︎Fool ✘︎

Y/N POV

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☆☆☆

Los Angeles, California

☆☆☆

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I wake up at an okay time the next day, at around noon. I'm in a sluggish mood already, and the cloudiness outside blocks the sun from entering my room. Long shadows drape across my room, and I can hardly tell that it's day. I roll out of bed, throwing on a graphic t-shirt and some sweatpants from my closet.

I leave my room, walking into the hallway. I peak out and see George in the kitchen, then turn back into the hallway. The bathroom has the lights on and the door is locked, leading me to think Sapnap is in there.

"Good morning," I say, spinning around and walking into the living room.

"Good morning," George replies. He rummages around the kitchen, quickly making himself breakfast.

"What are you, speedrunning?" I ask, chuckling.

"No, but I am getting pretty good at actual speedrunning," George says. I raise my eyebrows, an unsure look coming across my face. "What?" He asks.

"I seriously doubt that. It took you like, three hours to build your house on the smp," I say, and George gasps dramatically. "And it was during a war."

"Whatever, I'm probably better than you at speedrunning," he says. I take a step forward, seeing the sentence as a challenge.

"I've never even done speedrunning, so how could you tell," I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Because it takes you so long to do literally anything," George argues. I tilt my head at him.

"You know what? Fine. It'll be that way. Tomorrow, you, me, speedrunning for sub 60," I say.

"Pfft. Sub 60 is easy," he says. I chuckle at his sentence, looking back at his more recent streams.

"Fine. Sub 40," I say. Georges's jaw clenches in hesitation, but he reaches a hand out anyway.

"Fine," he says. I take his hand and shake it, sealing the deal.

I turn on my heel, heading into Dream's room confidently. George grows confused. I don't really know what I'm gonna do there, but turning back around and walking past him again will crush my ego.

I walk in, looking around the room. At least he bothered to clean up before he left. His desk is clean and his bed is made, Patches sleeping on one of his pillows. Lucky is there too, which is strange, judging by the fact that they usually sleep in the living room on the couches.

I walk over to his closet, opening the doors. I look around, my eyes scanning the vast amount of sweatshirts that hang loosely from his hangers. I run a hand past them, feeling the fabric of them all. I wrap my fingers around one of them, then take it out of the closet.

I pull the soft, grey fabric over my head, burying my face in the sweatshirt, and inhaling the smell. I hug myself, walking out of the room, and entering the living room. Patches and Lucky trial at my heels, following me and wanting breakfast.

I chuckle, ignoring George and pouring some food and water for both of the cats.

Even though the apartment is usually quiet in the mornings, it still seems eerily silent with one of the people missing. The cats eat as soon as the food settles, and I walk away, brushing my hands off.